


You're My Church in the Wild

by soulvacation



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, F/F, Fighter AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:19:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6994807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulvacation/pseuds/soulvacation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter between UFC champion, Lexa Woods, and Dr. Clarke Griffin has monumental consequences in both their personal, and professional lives. With the biggest fight of Lexa's career coming up, and Clarke struggling to maintain at the top of her class in her last year of residency, these two soon realize the benefits working together could pose, if they keep their feelings in check. But victory always comes at a cost.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to bother you at home like this,” Lexa said quietly after a few minutes, breaking the doctor from her thoughts. The statement came out of her mouth lazily, each word connected slightly to the next.  It sounded how cursive writing looked.</p>
<p>Clarke, now focused on the blood that had collected down Lexa’s neck flicked her eyes up to look at the girl sitting below her.  “It’s really not a big deal. Perks of the job, right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears on the mausoleum floor.

The steadily growing sounds of the crowd as she neared the inside of the arena made her skin buzz. She could feel her walk out song playing in her chest. The rhythm of it was interwoven with her heartbeat. Jumping through every part of her body until even her fingertips throbbed along to the beat. 

What’s a king to a god? 

As soon as the doors opened, the chaos amplified around her. Screaming fans with huge signs and flashing cameras. Thousands of hands reaching over the barricades for the chance to brush their fingers over her gloves. She willed it all to fade to the back of her mind. She couldn’t allow any distractions now. 

What’s a god to a non-believer… 

She zeroed in on the crowded cage at the end of the walkway. The closer she got to it, the more at home she felt. Faintly, she heard the announcer draw out her name as he introduced her, “Now entering the cage, from right here in Washington, DC, reigning champion…Lexa Woods!”

Will he make it out alive? Alright, alright, no church in the wild.

The fight was hard. Much harder than she expected. Lexa had just come out of the 3rd round with a nasty cut above her right eye. Blood flowed onto her quickly swelling cheek and her lungs burned as she sat down in her corner. Titus, her trainer, hovered above her, splashing water into her mouth and yelling at her team to fix the gash on her eye. His already rough voice strained as he attempted to yell at her over the crowd, “Woods, you have got to stay off the ground. That girl is huge, you’ll never beat her at her own game.”  
Lexa’s face twisted in argument until Titus continued. “But, you’re much faster. Stay on your feet and keep those damn hands up! You got this, kid.” He paused before a smirk lighted on his face. “Now go out there and give her something to talk about.” His eyes were still stern, but he shook her shoulders with encouragement as he finished his pep talk.

Lexa nodded and hopped up off of the stool, adjusting her mouth guard in the process. The bell rang for the start of the next round and she was back in her zone. Her opponent had been talking some serious trash leading up to this fight. Usually, Lexa didn’t let that bother her. Being the reigning champ automatically painted a huge red X on her back, so she had grown used to the pressure of everyone trying to bring her down. Talking shit also signified weakness in an opponent. She knew if they felt the need to give in to their emotions and talk before a fight, then they must not have the skill to back it up. Lexa Woods was not easily intimidated. 

But this girl was proving to be a little different. She was strong and made smart decisions in the cage, something that forced Lexa to adjust her own fighting style throughout the match. Not to mention she had quite a weight advantage over her, even though they were technically in the same class. Lexa had expected this to be a quick fight, like most of hers were, but it had turned out to be long and drawn-out. Her muscles were already aching and her hits were becoming less and less powerful as the minutes dragged on. She had to weasel her way out from under the other fighter and off the ground too many times. All of this was taking its toll on Lexa’s mental game as well as her physical one. The longer the fight went on, the less faith she had in herself to actually pull out a win. 

She got in a few good hits at the beginning of the round. Her opponent was tired too, making it easier for Lexa to shrug out of her attempts to pin her to the mat. Keeping light on her feet, Lexa moved around the cage with ease, even though her eye was aching and she could feel the swelling really starting to move into the socket. She knew if she could just keep moving, the other fighter would grow even more fatigued and allow Lexa an advantage.

The kick came out of nowhere. Lexa had just landed a stealthy jab to her opponent’s left cheek, when the girl’s leg swiftly met her ribcage. Lexa felt the smack of it and then the deepening pain that spread throughout her chest in seconds. She stumbled, turning away from the other fighter, and tried to put some distance in between them to recover. Already out of breath, the blow made it even more difficult to expand her lungs. She felt like she was drowning or suffocating. She wasn’t sure which was more accurate at the moment. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other girl rushing towards her and she knew she only had one shot to finish the fight. Still doubled over, she waited until the girl was almost on top of her and swung up with all the strength she had left. Her uppercut caught the other fighter right under her jaw, causing her to fall completely onto her back. The referee immediately rushed over to the girl, who was now struggling to get up, and called the fight.

Lexa stood up straight, pushed her shoulders back, and removed the arm clutching her side as her team quickly surrounded her. A smile spread over her face and she turned to the crowd.

Alright, alright, no church in the wild.  
…

The locker room after the fight was almost more chaotic than the arena she had just walked out of. Her team bounced all over the place attempting to take care of business in the midst of celebrating. Titus spoke to the media representatives, while Indra walked Lexa over to a bench in the back of the room so a doctor could look after her wounds. Expecting her usual doctor, who was about 73 and smelled like he bathed in Icy Hot, Lexa had to do a double take when she noticed the young blonde who was currently staring at her. She had her sleeves rolled up and her gloved hands wrote furiously on the chart she held as she assessed Lexa’s condition.

Just as she was about to begin tending to Lexa’s eye, Indra stepped in front of the doctor and her voice cut through the sea of voices filling the locker room. “Where’s Dr. Walton?” She looked hard at the unfamiliar woman with one eyebrow raised and a tight mouth.

“Dr. Walton couldn’t be here tonight. He had a family emergency. I’m Clarke Griffin, his resident.” Lexa noticed how the doctor held her head high in the face of Indra’s accusatory question and stuck out her hand. She didn’t seem to be rattled by her at all, which was a feat many people did not overcome. 

“So you’re a student?” Indra quipped back without accepting the woman’s greeting. She was quite protective of Lexa, especially after hard fights like the one she just had.

Clarke smiled as she said, “Technically, yes. But I’m in my last year and I’ve been to hundreds of these fights with Dr. Walton. Actually, one of my best friends is an amateur fighter, so I spend a lot of time patching her up.” She paused waiting to see if Indra would move out of her way so she could stitch up Lexa, whose eye had started bleeding again.  
When she didn’t, Clarke continued, “If you don’t think I’m qualified for the job though, I will happily call Dr. Walton away from his family so he can come down here to set a few ribs and stick on some butterfly stitches. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Clarke lifted her chin again and shifted her eyes to Lexa sitting on the bench. 

Lexa saw Indra’s chest growing steadily at the doctor’s sarcastic tone, but before she could take a step toward Clarke to intimidate her further, Lexa grabbed her arm. “I’m sure Dr. Griffin is quite qualified for the job, Indra,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Clarke and then back to Indra when she made no attempts at moving. “Why don’t you see if Titus needs help with the press. You know he can get a little overwhelmed sometimes.” Lexa’s hard voice seemed to tame Indra and she stalked off with one last glare toward the doctor.

Clarke quickly began working over Lexa’s body. The doctor’s hands were strong, but also gentle applying just the right amount of pressure to clean up her face without causing her too much pain. Lexa watched her work, getting caught up on how blue Clarke’s eyes were and how quickly and carefully her small hands moved over each cut. She was also hyperaware of how close the woman’s chest was to her face as she worked and looked for anything to distract her from that fact. 

The change of doctors was definitely appreciated, though. Dr. Walton was nice enough, but his hands were rough and his breath smelled like death most of the time. Lexa joked that he already had one foot in the grave and placed bets on how long it would take him to finally retire. She would have asked to have him replaced a long time ago but he hardly ever barred her from training or fighting and that was something she didn’t want to have to deal with. So he stayed, with his death breath and Icy Hot obsession.

Without looking up, Clarke absentmindedly asked Lexa, “So you always bring your Pitbull to your fights?” She nodded to Indra across the room as she lifted Lexa’s arm to look at her ribs. Lexa knew she was just trying to make conversation, but still it rubbed her the wrong way. 

“She’s part of my team, so yes. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her,” she answered straightforwardly. 

Clarke didn’t seem to notice Lexa’s subtle annoyance at her question. It was soon forgotten when the doctor’s fingers slid over the red blotches that had formed on Lexa’s side from that kick, slightly pushing each rib and then looking to Lexa’s face for a reaction. It made Lexa shiver. Her abs tightened when Clarke pressed on particularly sensitive spots, but Lexa had trained her face to not reveal the discomfort she felt. Looking weak was not a luxury she could afford in this industry. She wasn’t used to a doctor being so thorough after a fight, though, so controlling her expressions was proving to be difficult. Especially with a doctor that looked like Clarke, who was absolutely gorgeous. It was really unfortunate because Lexa was already having trouble breathing from her injured ribs, she really didn’t need the added inhibitor. 

Usually Lexa just took care of herself, knowing her body well enough to know if she needed the doctor’s assistance. She found it was faster for her to clean up her wounds than wait on Dr. Walton’s unsteady hands. He was more of a formality than anything. She would have never let him take care of her like Clarke was. She couldn’t really explain why, but the doctor’s hands were comforting and the care she took with each part of Lexa was endearing, especially since they had never met before. Lexa was secretly needy after fights anyway, always wishing someone would take care of her broken body but never allowing herself to ask for it.

Clarke had begun to wrap Lexa’s torso with ice when she finally responded to her a few minutes later. “It’s good you have people like that in your corner. Never know when some crazy doctor will come and try to kill you.” Lexa didn’t miss the playfulness in the doctor’s eyes when she said it, even though she had them focused on her midsection.  
When she finished with the ice, Clarke reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. 

“So, good news is that you don’t have any broken ribs that I can feel, at least. Here are some breathing exercises to do so you don’t get pneumonia. Keep icing, twenty minutes at a time okay?” Clarke handed her the paper and smiled. It caught Lexa off guard and she shook her head a little and swallowed.

“When can I start training again?” she said after she recovered.

“You need to rest for at least a month. Ribs take a while to heal and that was a pretty nasty kick out there,” Clarke finished softly.  
Lexa smirked remembering the feel of the kick, how it took her breath away. She felt oddly proud that the new doctor had seen her fight. “It wasn’t so bad.” She paused before reaching out a hand and saying, “Thank you Dr. Griffin. I hope you’ll accompany Dr. Walton more often.” 

Clarke took her hand, which was now un-gloved, and shook it. “I’ll see what I can do.” Her hand lingered in Lexa’s before she continued. “You’ll need to do a follow up appointment for X-rays and-

“-an MRI,” Lexa finished with a grin. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Dr. Griffin.”

As she gathered her things, she left Lexa with one last request.

“Call me Clarke. Dr. Griffin is my mother.” The corners of Clarke’s mouth slid down, like she was trying to hold back a cocky grin. Lexa let out a heavy breath as her eyes followed the doctor out of the room. 

…

After everyone had left the locker room, Lexa finally stood up and made her way to the showers. It was always a bittersweet experience showering after a fight. The water soothed her aching muscles, but bit at her skin that was painted with scratches and cuts. The shower ran red that night. It worried Lexa until she remembered that it wasn’t all her blood. Her brain felt like it was moving in slow-motion, as it usually did after a fight, making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. She recalled hitting the other fighter in the mouth when she had Lexa pinned on the mat once in the second round. The blood exploded all over Lexa’s face and chest, falling down like a warm rain. 

Lexa stayed under the water until it went cold. When she started to shake, she turned off the water and shuffled back out into the locker room. She slowly got dressed with the mismatched clothes she found in her training bag, being careful not to stretch her aching ribs too much. Still cold from the end of her shower, Lexa pulled on her favorite black hoodie over the wrinkled t-shirt she wore. The action reopened a cut on her lip, so she used her sleeve to dab lazily at her mouth. A voice sounded behind her, making her jump a little and wince at the pull it caused on her ribs. 

“Come on, Lex, I just did the laundry yesterday. You know, they make this awesome paper product that you can just throw away once you use it? I think it’s called gauze? If you keep this up, we won’t be able to eat for a week because we’ll be spending all of our money on stain remover.”

Lexa turned to find her sister, Anya, leaning against the door frame, eyes smiling. 

“You’re so funny,” Lexa deadpanned. She made more than enough money, from just one fight, to afford all the laundry accessories her heart desired. “I didn’t feel like walking over to the cabinet to get it,” she continued and chuckled. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be here tonight?”

“Well, I pulled a few strings and got someone to cover my shift.” Anya moved from her place in the door and picked up Lexa’s bag. “Plus, who else would take your whiny ass home?” 

Lexa sighed defiantly. “I can take care of myself,” she said. Her eyes were getting really heavy and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there. She hoped Anya would get the hint as she stuck her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt and hung her head a little.

“I know, Squirt. Let’s go home, yeah?” Anya looped her arm in Lexa’s as they walked out of the empty room.

…

The nickname came from their mother. Lexa was a scrawny kid, always skinnier than the other kids in her grade. Part of that resulted from the fact that her family was dirt poor. Like lived in a trailer and ate leftover ramen noodles for breakfast poor. Lexa can’t remember a time in her childhood when there was enough food to go around. Even when their mother didn’t eat so the girls could, Lexa still went to bed hungry most nights. She also had this wild hair that stuck out in different directions because it was so filthy, too thick and tangled to even get a brush through sometimes. Half-starved and always dirty, Lexa didn’t make friends easily and became an easy target for bullies. So, she learned to fight. 

The first time she fought at school and had to be picked up early, her mom turned to her in the backseat before they pulled out of the parking lot. She stuck a cigarette between her lips, lit it, and then said to Lexa, “Well, did you win?”

Still not recovered from the scolding she received from her teacher and the principal, Lexa had been terrified of what her mother would say. That was certainly not the question she was expecting. “He had a busted lip,” she answered quietly. She wasn’t sure if that qualified as a win, but other than that, her bruised knuckles and a 3-day suspension were all she had to show for it. 

Her mother laughed around the smoke that floated from her lips. “That’s my girl. You ain’t nothin’ but a little Squirt and you busted that boy’s lip!” Anya exploded with laughter beside her. Lexa looked over at her and frowned.

“What are you laughing at?” Lexa questioned.

“Little Squirt.” Anya could hardly get out the name before another fit of giggles started pouring out of her. 

Lexa turned back to their mother about to protest when she saw the grin slowly spreading across her face. The three of them laughed the whole way home, and the nickname stuck with Lexa. Her mom took them for ice cream that evening, staying out way past their bedtimes. She let Lexa take a bath when they got home and spent almost an hour combing and braiding her hair. That day was one of the best memories she had of her childhood. 

When they finally made it home from the arena, Lexa fell into her bed and fell asleep almost instantly. She dreamed about the way her mother ran her fingers through her wet hair, carefully separating all of the knots. Lexa could almost feel how her mom had gathered up sections of it and quickly twisted it into a French braid, tying it with the hairband she always kept on her wrist. At some point in the night, her mother’s hands turned into the young doctor’s from earlier, checking her bruises and tending to her cuts. It felt so good to be taken care of. She had almost forgotten what it felt like.

When she woke up the next morning, the absence of those careful hands hurt her chest more than her bruised ribs did. 

…

Lexa spent the next few days in her apartment, binge watching every Disney classic she owned. The only person who knew about her obsession with the kid’s movies was Anya, and she was sworn to secrecy. Anya knew she only watched them when she was really feeling bad after fights. Lexa looked so pitiful wrapped up in blankets on the couch, with one eye glued to the TV, since the other was still swollen shut, and countless ice packs surrounding her torso. Anya couldn’t even bring herself to tease her about it. 

About a week later, Lexa started to feel better and made her way to the gym she trained at to speak with Titus about her next fight. Usually after big fights like this, Lexa spent her time training younger fighters while she healed. It helped to keep her mind on fighting, but still allowed her body to rest and recover. Plus, she liked the fact that some of them looked up to her. Today, though, was strictly business.

She walked into the busy gym and scanned the room to find Titus sitting alone in his office bent over his desk. His hand rested on the top of his bald head and his eyes squinted at a stack of papers laid out in front of him. 

When he noticed Lexa standing in his doorway he said, “Lexa! Come in! How are you feeling?” 

“I’m good, coach,” she lied. Her face was still bruised and she could hardly move at all without her chest and back feeling like it was imploding in on itself. She rarely complained, no matter her condition. Lexa suffered quietly, revealing her pain in subtle actions that most people didn’t pick up on. 

Titus knew though. He had trained Lexa long enough to know when she was really hurting. It was in the heavy swallows and tightness of her usually pouting lips and the strain that hid just behind her eyes. All of which Lexa had displayed in the few minutes since she walked into the gym.

He grinned before taking off his glasses and getting right on task. “Good. So about this next fight…I think we’re looking at an undefeated fighter named Ontari Jackson. Have you heard of her?” 

Lexa shifted slightly in her chair. “Yeah, she fights dirty. I’m surprised the UFC hasn’t reprimanded her yet,” said Lexa. Her comment wasn’t made out of fear, just a simple statement of fact. Everyone knew that Ontari had used unorthodox fighting methods to gain her success in the league. She began her fighting career in the streets, and her strategy reflected that kind of hardcore play. The fans ate it up.

Titus nodded and looked like he wanted to say something else. Lexa felt her stomach drop because she knew that look. He was about to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

“Lexa. In order to prepare for this fight, I need you to be in the best condition possible. We’ll be training for a few weeks longer than normal, so I need to make sure you’ll be ready,” he said.

“Dr. Griffin said my ribs would be healed in a month. We can start training then,” Lexa replied knowing somewhere deep in her gut that Titus wasn’t finished yet.

Titus took a sharp breath in, almost as if to work himself up to what he was about to say. Finally, he said, “I want you to take three months off from intense training.”

Lexa looked at him like he was crazy. “I’ve never taken three months off before. What am I supposed to do for three months?”  
“You’ve never taken hits like you have in the last few fights either, kid.”

Lexa huffed out in frustration. “That means almost six months until I get to fight again!” She threw up her hands, hoping the dramatic movement would change Titus’s mind. It didn’t.

“Your body needs to rest. If you want to keep the title, and beat Ontari, you’ll need to do as I say,” he said more harshly. “And you need to get that eye looked after. It’s not healing as fast as it should.”

“Titus-

“-no Lexa. This is non-negotiable. Now get out of here. And, please, stay out of trouble. Just because you aren’t training doesn’t mean you forget about the gym rules. You still represent this place.” Titus put his glasses back on and continued with his work. Lexa knew he was done with the conversation.

She shook her head in disbelief and lifted herself out of the chair. Lexa walked out the door and immediately pulled out her phone to call Lincoln, a trainer and former fighter who had been her best friend since the 6th grade. He was really her only friend outside of Anya and a few acquaintances she had at the gym. 

He answered on the second ring, dependable as ever. “What up, champ?”

“I need to get drunk tonight.”

…

Lincoln picked Lexa up later that night and drove to their favorite dive bar on the outskirts of the city. It was a Friday night, so the bar was a little busier than usual, but still filled with mostly old drunks who didn’t get too rowdy. Lexa and Lincoln made their way to the bar and ordered their usual drinks.

“Man, that eye looks rough,” he chuckled as he pointed to Lexa’s face.

“It looks worse than it feels,” she said. Lincoln didn’t look convinced though. “Honestly!” Lexa tried again before taking a sip of her drink. The haze of cigarette smoke wafted around their faces that were half lit up by dim lights hanging above the bar. It almost felt like they were in another world, separate from reality, frozen in time.

“Well, whatever you say. As long as it’s better by the next fight right?” He took a long swig of his own drink and looked over the top of the glass at Lexa.

“Yeah, if Titus ever lets me fight again.” 

Lincoln ruffled Lexa’s hair and said, “He’ll come around. You’ve been making everyone nervous watching you in that cage lately.”

Lexa hummed a response as she rolled her eyes and finished her drink. She didn’t want to think about anything tonight. 

After way too many rounds of shots, Lexa sat at the bar laughing at Lincoln who had made a makeshift mask out of a bar napkin to look like Titus. He was making fun of the very few times when Titus found out that Lexa fought in some unsanctioned fights at the beginning of her UFC career. He was so mad that he mostly just stuttered fractions of words before power walking into his office and slamming the door. The sound that was coming from Lexa at the bar was a broken kind of laughter and sobbing without the tears, of course. It was hurting her ribs so bad to laugh, but Lincoln was just so funny. Finally, seeing the state of his best friend, he pulled the napkin off and rubbed at his watering eyes. 

He ordered a water for both of them and then happened to look over Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa noticed his face harden suddenly, quite the change from the goofy smile that was previously there. He nodded toward the door, so Lexa could see who was making their way over to them. After her drunken eyes finally focused, she noticed the short brunette flanked by her team of misfits, Ontari Jackson. 

Lexa sat up straight and fixed a scowl on her face to match Lincoln’s. Lexa didn’t mention this to Titus earlier, but she had known Ontari since they were kids. They grew up in the same neighborhood, but occupied very different friend groups, practically making them rivals. Ontari was a ruthless fighter, using any means possible to take down an opponent, no matter how reckless. Everyone was terrified of her, well, except of course Lexa. She almost felt sorry for Ontari, knowing that her upbringing was quite similar to hers. She knew how difficult it was to make the right choices in an environment like that.

As soon as Ontari opened her mouth, all of that sympathy dissipated, replaced by a festering anger that threatened to rise out of its hiding place in Lexa’s ribcage. A kind of anger she hadn’t really felt since she was a teenager. 

“Well, looked who stopped by to mingle with the commoners. The great Lexa Woods has graced us with her presence everyone!” Ontari said just a little too loud. Lexa stared at her, cocking her head slightly to the side, almost as if to challenge her. Lincoln scooted to the edge of his seat, ready to put himself in between the two if he needed. In the state she was in, he knew it wouldn’t take much for Lexa to lose her patience.

“Nothing to say? Boy, you really have changed. The Lexa I used to know would never let anyone speak to her like this. She would have shut them up real quick. But that’s okay! You must be saving it all up for the real fight, am I right? Ontari smirked as she saw Lexa move her jaw back and forth, watching her trying to come up with an answer. If Lexa didn’t know the kind of person Ontari was, she would’ve assumed she was drunk, but really, her demeanor was always like this.

Lexa thought about not saying anything, but then she saw that look in Ontari’s eye, like she knew she was stronger than her. She couldn’t risk looking weak to her next opponent, especially not when she might be the one to strip her of her title. The alcohol was making it a little difficult for her to think of an appropriate comeback, though.

“Look, I know you’re just bitter that you’re only the fourth highest paid fighter in the UFC, behind me of course. I know it just kills you to know that I’m ranked higher than you in wins. But that’s no reason to ruin a perfectly good Friday night, Ontari” Lexa laughed off hoping the other fighter would just leave, because she wasn’t sure she could deal with her for much longer. The girl had always known how to get under her skin.

Ontari’s face set and she raised her eyebrows as she took a step closer to Lexa. She lowered her voice and spoke right into Lexa’s ear. “I can’t wait to fight you, because when I’m done with you, you’re gonna end up just like your crack head mother and I will finally take my rightful place as champion.”

Before Lincoln could intercept her, Lexa stood and grabbed Ontari’s jacket, lifting her up just slightly. Through bared teeth Lexa slowly released a warning. “Shut. The fuck up.” Anyone else would have just about shit their pants being on the receiving end of Lexa’s wrath, but not Ontari. A wild look flashed across her eyes right before she head-butted Lexa right on her already injured eye. Blood splattered on the floor as Lexa immediately released Ontari and fell back into the bar, landing, of course, on her ribs. Lincoln and a few of the guys they were sitting with quickly barricaded her in so the two girls were separated.

Ontari laughed as her friends pulled her toward the door. “You better be ready, Woods. Hope that eye heals up before the fight!” And with that she was gone, just as quickly as she came.

Lexa had never known anyone to actually head butt someone. Like she didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to do that shit on purpose. It hurt. Really bad. So in between trying to close up the skin above her eye and swallow down the residual anger that was rushing through her body, she was in utter disbelief about what had just happened. Her mind was also frantically attempting to solve all of the problems that had were quickly presenting themselves. Which turned out to be difficult because not only was she trying to recover from a blow to the head, but she was still incredibly drunk. 

She raised her head and saw Lincoln pointing back and forth between her, the door, and the bartender, who looked at him with wide eyes as he spoke in a hushed voice. Thankfully, Lincoln had been around her long enough to know how important it was that an incident like this didn’t get leaked to the press, or the UFC. Or the cops, for that matter. Lexa fought all through school and usually Lincoln was the one who had to pick up the pieces so Anya, and later Titus, wouldn’t find out. Lexa had a habit of attracting trouble.

When he finished speaking with the bartender, Lincoln turned to Lexa and wiped some blood off her cheek. Before he could say anything, Lexa looked at him with wide eyes, panic setting in. “No one can know about this.”

“I’m already way ahead of you. You know that girl I’ve been seeing, Octavia?”

Lexa nodded and wiped some blood on her shirt.

“Her best friend is a doctor. I think I can get her to fix up that eye,” he said. He pulled out his phone and hurriedly told Octavia what happened. He hung up with a smirk on his face before offering Lexa his arm. “Let’s go, champ.”

…

They caught a cab to Octavia’s apartment, where she lived with her doctor friend. They got lucky with a cabbie who didn’t question Lexa’s bleeding face, only giving them a short,  
“You better not bleed on my seats,” before taking off into the city.

Lexa grew quiet in the backseat, one hand holding her head, the other clenched into a fist in her lap. She kept replaying Ontari’s words in her mind. They rolled over the back of her eyelids, growing and spreading like a cancer. Like your crack head mother. The city laid out before them, but Lexa could only picture the inside of the dingy trailer she grew up in. The dented metal screen door that didn’t shut all the way when she came home from school that day. Teardrops on the filthy linoleum flooring that was sticky under her hands when she fell to her knees. A puke-covered couch. Blonde hair splayed over the remote to the TV in the floor as the paramedics tried to breathe life back into her mother’s stiff chest. 

When Ontari’s words slid out of her mouth, part of Lexa was only mad because her mother didn’t do crack. She drank. She took too many pills. And she shot heroin exactly once. She never smoked crack. Not that those things really mattered, but it just showed that Ontari had no clue what she was talking about. Ontari didn’t know her mother, she just knew how she died. Everyone in the neighborhood did, thanks to the cop cars and the ambulance that sped into the trailer park that day. The only ones who felt her absence, though, were Anya, Lexa, and Lincoln, who had practically become part of the family at that point. They ached for her wild laughter and spur of the moment adventures. Her too-tight hugs and sloppy kisses. Homemade banana bread and fried chicken made on special occasions if they could afford it, like when Lexa got her learner’s permit or when Anya got her first job.

Lexa was 16 when her mother died from the overdose. After that, all she did was fight. The sting of broken knuckles and busted flesh was the only thing that made her feel alive. The rest of the time she just went through the motions, constantly feeling like she was wading through a fog. But, as soon as some angry, poor teenager appeared in front of her, spitting insults just to rile her up, Lexa’s body woke up. Every nerve ending felt like it was electrified. She had ice in her veins. Lexa just wanted to fight the world that was already working against her, distancing herself from anyone who might learn to really care about her in the process. It almost worked, too.

Like your crack head mother. The phrase was still repeating in her head as the cab pulled up to Octavia’s apartment. Lincoln led the way up to the door and Lexa stood behind him, trying to rub some of the dried blood off of her hands. The door opened and she heard a vaguely familiar voice greet Lincoln. Lexa stepped out from behind him and immediately took a sharp breath in. 

“Hello, Dr. Griffin.”


	2. Blue Eyes Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry this took so long to update! I was definitely not planning on taking that long. But I read all of your comments and I appreciated them so much. I hope you like this chapter! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, I apologize if the formatting is messed up. I legit have no idea what I'm doing lol.

Clarke squinted at the blood stained girl swaying drunkenly in front of her. A few seconds passed before realization washed over her face. “Lexa Woods?” She looked to Lincoln. “The friend you need me to stitch up is Lexa Woods?” 

“Yep, that’s the one.” Lincoln shrugged and glanced between Lexa and Clarke who had their eyes locked on each other. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, no it’s fine! Come in,” Clarke stuttered and stepped back into her apartment. 

Lincoln brushed past Clarke in the tiny walkway leading into the living room. “I can’t believe Octavia didn’t tell you,” he said over his shoulder. “She was freaking out on the phone when I called her. Been asking to meet Lexa pretty much the entire time we’ve been dating. Big fan.” 

“Well, she must have been in shock then, because she failed to mention that the most famous fighter in the UFC needed my help,” she said with a smirk. “It’s good to see you again, Lexa. Though, I wish it were under different circumstances.”

The fighter just smiled a little and nodded, then pushed her eyes back to the sidewalk.

When Octavia told Clarke that one of her friends needed some help, she was annoyed. Half-expecting it to be one of Octavia’s wannabe fighter buddies who always got hurt in some underground fight club, she snapped at her roommate a little, tired of always getting dragged into their messes. Work had been exhausting lately, and she was scheduled to work a double shift at the hospital the next day, so her patience was already thin. Plus, she wasn’t really supposed to practice medicine outside of work anyway. And Octavia knew that. 

But when Clarke saw it was Lexa standing at her front door, she suddenly didn’t mind so much. Honestly, she thought to herself, who wouldn’t want some eye candy to look at while they worked? At least, that’s how she justified the butterflies she felt floating around in her stomach after the disbelief had worn off from finding the fighter in her apartment after midnight. She wasn’t sure if she was just star struck over Lexa, or if it was something more. Something she shouldn’t even be thinking about, being her doctor and all.

It was no secret that Lexa was stunning. The whole world knew it. But it still caught Clarke off guard how different Lexa looked from when she first met her after the fight. She was used to seeing athletes like that, muscles shining and chests heaving with their hair sticking out all over the place. This Lexa was soft, though. Her hair was down and it fell down her back in loose curls, except for what was stuck to her forehead in the dried blood that had collected there. A wrinkled, light green t-shirt hugged her wide shoulders and arms. She had a braided bracelet on her wrist that was worn, its faded leather cracked in a few places. Almost everything was splattered with blood, though, and it made Clarke worry about how much blood Lexa had lost, or if it was even hers. There were even a few drops of it on the Converse sneakers she wore. 

Clarke smiled softly at Lexa, who was still standing outside. The fighter looked nervous, holding one arm over her chest, hand squeezing her elbow. She looked as if she was waiting for Clarke to give her another invitation to come inside. Like she wanted to make sure it was okay. Clarke motioned for her to come in and turned to follow Lincoln inside.  
The quiet click of the door pulled her eyes back to Lexa again. Clarke watched as she leaned her back against it and let her eyes flutter closed. The fighter let out a deep breath and her shoulders sunk a little more with its release. Even though she knew she had to be professional, Clarke couldn’t help but think how pretty the girl was. Pretty and tired. 

Lincoln’s voice broke through the Lexa-induced cloud that surrounded Clarke and extinguished most of the unprofessional thoughts lingering in her mind. “Well can you fix her?” he asked. 

Clarke adjusted her glasses on her nose, a habit she’d had since she was a kid. It was kind of like a nervous habit, her hands always making their way to her face pulling on the plastic to get them in just the right position. Feeling a slight relief from whatever was making her anxious when they finally sat squarely. “Yeah, of course,” she said quickly.  
He nodded and then disappeared down the hallway to find his girlfriend, muttering something about staying out of the doctor’s way.

Clarke noticed Lexa’s drooping head and took a step toward her. “Come on,” she said softly as she held out her hand to guide Lexa to the bathroom. 

It surprised Clarke how readily Lexa laid her hand in Clarke’s, and how warm it made her feel. In her experience, some athletes could be difficult patients. They loved their sports too much to take care of their bodies like they should and Lexa definitely didn’t strike her as someone who let other people take care of her much. With those hard eyes and set jaw, she figured most people did whatever Lexa told them to. Then again, Clarke reminded herself that she really didn’t know anything about the girl. Other than she was usually bleeding when she saw her. But it still made her feel good that Lexa let her take care of her.

Clarke led her into the bathroom where her medical bag was open on the sink. 

“Sit,” Clarke said as she pointed to the toilet and started removing the supplies she needed. Lexa must have nearly missed the seat on the way down because she had to grab onto the side of the bathtub and knocked Clarke’s shampoo into the floor. The commotion made Clarke drop what she was holding. She reached for Lexa’s shoulders, steadying her on the seat. 

“Woah, there. You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” Lexa said as a blush spread out from under the blood caked on her cheek and neck. This definitely wasn’t the calm and collected Lexa that Clarke had met the other night. This Lexa seemed almost shaken. “Just drank a little too much,” she said with a small chuckle.

Clarke bent back over her bag and felt a grin rise to her face. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that head injury, would it?”

“Definitely not, Doc. I’m practically the model patient. I’ve done everything you told me to do,” Lexa said in an overly confident voice. 

“So that cut just reopened on its own, huh?” Clarke replied, keeping her tone light in hopes to bring another smile to Lexa’s face. She seemed like she needed it.

“Something like that,” Lexa said. Suddenly quiet, her eyes focused on her hands in her lap. Clarke gathered that whatever happened earlier tonight, Lexa didn’t want to talk about. So, she focused her attention back on getting her supplies ready.

She ran warm water over a cloth to wipe the blood off of Lexa’s skin. When she moved to begin cleaning Lexa’s face, the fighter jerked a little and caught Clarke’s hand in midair. Clarke felt her forehead crease and slowly lowered her hand. It surprised her how quick Lexa was, given the state she was in. The fighter quickly slid her hand off of Clarke’s and placed it back in her lap. 

“I can do that if you want. I didn’t realize how much there was.” Lexa motioned to her face and neck, and then further down to the splotches of blood that had collected on her shirt. Clarke realized her guess was probably right about Lexa not letting anyone take care of her.

“Just, let me. It’ll probably be quicker if I do it anyway,” said Clarke. After thinking about it for a second, Lexa nodded and tilted her head up to give Clarke better access to her face.

Clarke leaned down and finally began to gently clean Lexa’s skin. Placing one hand on the back of her head to stabilize it while she worked, she dragged the rough cloth across the girl’s cheek in small circles. She got lost in the motion of her hands, feeling at home as she moved them across Lexa’s face, clearing the mess off so that she could see to do the real work. 

It was one of the first things she remembered learning in school, how to clean a wound. The wiping away of dirt and blood, or any other substance. Cleansing the skin, disinfecting it, while trying to calm the patient and make them as comfortable as possible. It was a cathartic experience for Clarke, repairing a person like that. Almost like painting in reverse, erasing any trace of pain or trauma, going back to an almost-clean canvas.

“I’m sorry to bother you at home like this,” Lexa said quietly after a few minutes, breaking the doctor from her thoughts. The statement came out of her mouth lazily, each word connected slightly to the next. It sounded how cursive writing looked.

Clarke, now focused on the blood that had collected down Lexa’s neck flicked her eyes up to look at the girl sitting below her. “It’s really not a big deal. Perks of the job, right?” 

A smile tugged at Lexa’s mouth. Clarke finished up washing her skin and then moved to the busted eye to stitch it up. The fighter didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the needle. After a few minutes, her eyes softly closed, like a blink in slow motion. Knowing the girl was tired, Clarke tried to close the cut as fast as she could. But just as she was finishing, she noticed a few scars on Lexa’s face. One above her other eye. A slash through her top lip. A feather light line over her right ear. She could tell these scars were from wounds that weren’t taken care of. Ones left to their own devices to heal. Clarke felt a lump in her throat and before she could stop herself she whispered out a question she would normally keep locked in the back of her mind, knowing it was much too personal to ask a new patient. 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Her voice was more raspy than usual, so not all of the sounds came out. The question revealed itself like a secret, not completely sure if it wanted to be heard or not. 

Lexa opened her eyes slowly and looked up to Clarke. The question didn’t seem to bother her, which relieved Clarke a little. Actually, she looked more composed than she had all evening. Back straight and shoulders back. Chin lifted slightly as even breaths passed through her nose. It lessened the harshness of her bruised face and blood crusted palms.  
But she also looked thoughtful, like she was trying to pull just the right words through her tired, injured brain. Maybe making sure that once she had them, they didn’t come out as slurred messes, like Clarke noticed most of her sentences tonight had been.

“It’s all I know,” Lexa answered simply. Her voice was strong, but also a little raw. Clarke caught herself staring at the girl, with her hand still tangled in her curly brown hair as she tried to keep it away from Lexa’s hurt eye. 

“And, in my defense, this time wasn’t exactly my fault.” Her green eyes looked away from Clarke and refocused on the tile floor beneath them.

Clarke could tell Lexa was trying to divert from the seriousness of the first part of her answer. It was as if she were giving her just enough information to satisfy her. But Clarke wasn’t satisfied. She was a very straightforward person, and there was so much hiding just behind Lexa’s eyes that Clarke wanted to reveal. She had no idea why, though. Lexa just made her think, which was more than anyone had done in a long time. 

A sharp knock on the door caused Clarke to forget whatever questions she was forming and pull her hand away from Lexa too quickly, dropping the scissors she had used to cut the final stitch in the process. Lincoln popped his head around the corner. “Someone would like to meet you, Lexa.” Octavia stepped beside Lincoln with a nervous grin on her face. Lexa pulled herself up to greet the girl, holding on to the sink as she moved through the bathroom. 

“Holy shit. I can’t believe you’re in my apartment right now,” Octavia sputtered as her mouth broke into a toothy grin. Clarke would have laughed, but she had found herself wanting to say the same thing since Lexa got there. Even though they had met before in the locker room, it was an entirely different thing to have one of the best athletes of all time in her tiny bathroom. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Octavia,” Lexa said with a short laugh. “Thank you for helping us out tonight. You really saved the day.”

“Anytime! I’m a huge fan,” Octavia blurted out, instantly turning red and hiding a little in Lincoln when she realized what she was saying. Clarke snorted beside Lexa, covering her mouth with her wrist to stop the laughter. She knew Octavia was a little bit obsessed with the fighter, but she didn’t realize she had it this bad. Octavia, who usually cowered before no one, was a giant puddle in the presence of Lexa. Fidgety and loud, she seemed to have no control over her body at the moment.

It made Lexa laugh again, but it was cut short with a small cough. Her hand moved to her side, but she kept talking to Octavia like nothing was wrong. “I’ll have to make sure you have front row tickets to my next fight.” 

That made Octavia light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Really?” She did a little jump and clapped her hands together before straightening her face and dropping her arms to her side. “I mean, that would be lovely,” she said obviously trying to sound calm. Clarke made a mental note to use this for blackmail purposes in the future. Maybe she could finally get Octavia to do the dishes every once in a while.

Lincoln removed his arm from Octavia’s waist and then looked to Lexa. “You ready? I have an appointment with a new fighter tomorrow morning that I completely forgot about. You can crash at my place so Anya doesn’t ask questions,” he said as he walked toward the door.

Lexa turned to Clarke and smiled. “Thank you for taking care of my eye. I hope I didn’t get blood anywhere.”

“You’re welcome. And it’s no big deal if you did. I think they should call me ‘Commander of the Blood’ for as much as I have to clean up on a daily basis.” Clarke tried to hide her embarrassment after the lame comment, and from revealing the fact that she knew Lexa’s nickname.

Lexa just smiled and said, “I’ll make sure to inform the MMA world who the real Commander is.” 

Then she winked at Clarke and turned to walk toward the door. The action made Clarke blink a few times, questioning in her mind if that really just happened. She looked to Octavia whose mouth was wide open with a look of disbelief on her face. Lexa Woods just winked at her. In her living room. The fighter obviously had started to feel better. Either that, or she was still buzzed and didn’t realize what she was doing. Clarke didn’t even know how to process all that information, so she stored it away and tried to get her heart rate back to normal. 

Just as Lexa’s hand settled on the doorknob, Clarke found her voice stuck in the back of her throat.

“Why don’t you just stay here? I mean, I know you got hit pretty hard, so you probably have a concussion and I would just feel better if you were here so I could make sure you were alright. In case anything were to happen during the night, I mean.” Clarke knew she was rambling, as she always did when she was nervous. Her hand was on her glasses, and she could almost hear her mother getting on to her for bending the frames. 

Clarke had no idea why Lexa had this effect on her. She never remembered feeling like this with any of her other patients, and she had worked on a lot of hot people. Athletes were hot people. She’d got hit on by a fair share of them, too, always laughing it off or ignoring it. But none of them made Clarke feel like she was going to puke and hyperventilate and feel content all at the same time like Lexa did. 

Unable to stop it, Clarke continued rambling. “Plus, I’ve never seen someone almost fall asleep while they were getting stitches, so I know you must be exhausted.”  
Lincoln quickly agreed, saving Clarke from looking too desperate, for which she was very thankful. “Yeah I think that’s a good idea Lex, since I live on the other side of the city, it’ll be awhile before you would be able to get to sleep. And I don’t have a handy-dandy doctor at my place.”

Lexa looked between them with heavy eyes and said finally, “Okay, yeah that’s fine.” When Lincoln just stared at her, she rolled her eyes. “What? I can be agreeable, sometimes.”  
“Yeah, only when you have a head injury.”

It wasn’t until Lincoln had closed the door that Clarke realized what she just offered. 

…

“So, we don’t have an extra bed, but you can have mine,” Clarke said. Then, realizing how that may have sounded, she quickly continued. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I can grab you some clothes too, so you don’t have to sleep in those.”

Clarke’s rambling revealed itself again as she busied herself with dragging some blankets out of the closet and stacking them on the couch. She kept replaying that stupid wink in her head. Each time her heart felt like it was pumping through her throat and she had to swallow it back down so it wouldn’t burst out of her mouth. Lexa didn’t seem to be bothered at all. She also seemed to have sobered up some since Lincoln left, regaining her cool and calm disposition that Clarke recognized from the night they met.

“Clarke, really, you’ve done enough,” she said. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I feel bad for keeping you up so late anyway.” 

The mention of her name calmed Clarke down instantly. For a split second, all of her thoughts just stopped as the sounds of it echoed in her ears. It sounded different when Lexa said it. She wasn’t used to someone taking so much care of it.

“Would it be okay if I took a shower? I’m still pretty gross from the bar earlier,” Lexa continued, waking up Clarke’s brain again.

“Yeah, of course. Let me go get you those clothes,” Clarke said and she turned quickly down the hallway, relieved to leave the room. She needed to get a hold of herself.

…

A strong arm shot out from Octavia’s room and pulled Clarke in just as she was about to open her own bedroom door. She was met by her roommate, who sported a wild facial expression and seemed slightly out of breath.

“Are you…okay?” Clarke asked slowly with creased eyebrows. Octavia ran her hand through her hair and started pacing around the small room. Then suddenly she stopped in front of Clarke and began speaking.

“She winked at you right? Like I didn’t imagine that. I’m not seeing things or whatever?” Her words rushed out of her mouth and she had this crazed look in her eye as she stared Clarke down.

Clarke rubbed her face, realizing instantly what this kidnapping was about. “Yes, O, I’m pretty sure she winked at me,” she sighed.

Octavia had been relentlessly trying to set her up with someone the past few months. It had resulted in horrible blind dates and Clarke tiredly trying to avoid any conversation of dating with Octavia. She didn’t even comment on hot actors in their favorite TV shows anymore, knowing it would result in Octavia saying, “You know, I have a friend that looks almost exactly like that.” They never looked like that.

“I mean, Jesus, Clarke the way you two look at each other. You’ve known each other, for what, 5 minutes?” At that, Clarke realized how obviously not-so-subtle she was with those longing looks toward Lexa. 

“That is what you call soulmate material, my friend, and I will not let you pass up this glorious-ass opportunity.” 

“Octavia. I need you to calm down before you have a coronary. She’s my patient, nothing more okay? She can’t be anything more.” Clarke finished quietly, hanging her head just a little.

“So you do have a crush on her!” Octavia practically yelled. Clarke really hoped Lexa couldn’t hear that. 

“I never said that! I-“

“You practically implied that if you could, you would want something to happen between you two.”

“I absolutely did not. You’re just hearing what you want to hear,” Clarke stubbornly defend herself. “And, also, I think you’re reading wayyy too much into this. Lexa came here not only drunk, but also after a serious blow to the head. I’m not really holding her accountable for any of her actions tonight.”

“Clarke, you can’t deny that girl doesn’t have some sort of weird magic effect on you! Even if she does have a head injury. You invited her to stay at our apartment. To make sure she’s alright. When was the last time you did ANYTHING nice like that for anyone?”

“I’m nice!” Clarke protested.

“Yeah, you used to be. Now you’re just kind of…indifferent. And somewhere deep, deep down inside that little broken heart of yours, I think you still are that kind-hearted person you’ve always been. But if it doesn’t have to do with work or your art, you won’t give it the time of day. In fact, I haven’t even seen you work on your art lately.”

Even though she hated it, Clarke knew she was right. The past year had been tough. She had thrown herself into work, and if she had any free time after that she would draw or paint for a little while. Mostly as a stress reliever, nothing serious ever really came out of it. A half sculpted lump of clay had been sitting on her desk for almost six months. Now dry and tough, the inspiration to finish whatever it was, completely gone.

“I haven’t seen you look at anyone, or anything, the way you looked at her tonight. Not since-“

“Don’t,” Clarke interrupted her. The stern look that accompanied the word quieted Octavia. “I really can’t deal with this right now. The biggest MMA fighter in the country is in our living room. And she is waiting for clothes out there, so I gotta go.”

Clarke could hear Octavia try to protest as she quickly shut the door and ran over to her room to get what Lexa needed. As she dug around in her closet, she realized she would have to face Octavia and her matchmaking eventually. In the meantime, she needed to get over this dumb crush, or whatever it was she was feeling for Lexa. Doctors can’t have feelings for their patients. It’s, like, the first rule you learn in med school.

…

“Here ya go. I hope these fit alright,” Clarke said as she handed the clothes to Lexa who smiled and thanked her. 

Just as she was about to go into the bathroom, Lexa stopped in front of an old bookcase that sat by the door. She turned back to Clarke and said, “While you were gone, I couldn’t help but notice all of the artwork around here. I was just wondering who the artist was, I really love these pieces.”

Clarke’s cheeks tinted pink and she looked toward her feet. “Oh, uh, I…it’s mine.”

“You made all of these?” Lexa said with a hint of disbelief on her tongue. She pointed to the various other pieces scattered around the room. There were mostly sculptures, but also a few paintings and drawings. 

Clarke fiddled with the edge of a blanket on the back of the couch, averting her eyes from Lexa’s. 

“Yeah, it’s just a hobby really,” she said.

“Wow, a doctor and an artist, who’s modest too,” she added as an afterthought. “You must be quite the catch.” Lexa had that signature smirk on her face and Clarke hoped that she couldn’t tell that her insides felt like they were melting. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

The question made Clarke laugh, because, boy, did Lexa have the wrong impression of her. For quite some time, she had felt like she couldn’t do anything right. Just last week she burned a can of chicken noodle soup. She didn’t even know it was possible to burn soup. Hardened noodles cemented themselves to the sides of the pot she was using and the broth was way more solid than it should’ve been. Octavia plastered pictures of the debacle over every social media platform she could find. 

“I’m a horrible cook,” Clarke shrugged, saying it like a question. 

“Well, I’d have to see it to believe it.” Lexa turned back to the bookcase and ran her fingers over a clay sculpture that had rested there for as long as Clarke could remember.

It was a pair of hands, one much larger than the other. The big hand looked as if it were attached to a person who was walking away from the owner of the smaller hand, which was desperately trying to cling onto the ring finger of its larger counterpart. Of course Lexa would stop at that piece. 

“If my hands could make something like this, I don’t think I’d ever fight again,” she said, a serious tone returning to her voice.

Clarke remembered holing herself up in her room after her father’s funeral to make it. Loud music, a few leftover tears, and probably dirt from her lack of showering mixed themselves into the clay as she worked. Her mom would drop off her food at mealtimes, and sat with her to make sure she ate it. Clarke always hid the sculpture under a sheet and her mom never asked what it was. It wasn’t ready for anyone else to see yet. At the time, she wondered if she would ever show it to anyone. 

Art was always how she felt things. It allowed her to immerse herself completely in whatever she was feeling, to drown in it almost. Only coming up for air when a piece was finished. Lately, Clarke hadn’t felt strongly enough about anything to immortalize it into a piece of art.

As Clarke attempted to cling to the present moment, Lexa continued to talk. “I didn’t know a pair of hands could say so much.”

Clarke looked between the hands and Lexa, as she was trying to decide what to say. Not really wanting to explain the meaning behind the piece, Clarke diverted the topic back to Lexa. “I feel like of all people, you should know exactly what hands can do,” she teased. It made Lexa grin.

“Well, I guess that’s true. Not a lot of good has come from mine, though.” She lifted her hand a little so her palm faced up, then letting it drop back to her side. Clarke looked down at it before taking a small step toward Lexa.

“I don’t know if I believe that.” 

Lexa laughed a little and then said jokingly, “Are you trying to say that bruised faces, broken bones, and blood are good things? Because if you are, I think I may need to find a new doctor.” 

“No, no, don’t do that. I gotta pay off these student loans somehow. I’m just saying that you’re not some walking ball of destruction.”

“And how exactly would you know that?” 

“Just a feeling,” Clarke said softly.

A clock ticked in the kitchen, echoing into the living room. Its rhythm almost matched Clarke’s heartbeat thumping in her ears. The floor creaked as Lexa shifted her feet and the sound brought Clarke suddenly back to reality. Stepping back a little, she sputtered, “Um, you should probably go grab that shower.”

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she continued as she backed up towards the hallway.

“Thank you again, Clarke. I really owe you for tonight.”

Clarke stopped and leaned her hip against the back of the couch. That look returned to Lexa’s face again. It matched the one she saw in the bathroom after she asked her why she fought. One that said so much more than her words did. 

“Don’t worry about it. Just…no more bar fights, okay?”

Lexa smiled sheepishly and put her head down. Just before she closed the bathroom door, she stopped and looked to where Clarke still stood.

“Goodnight, Clarke.” She blinked. Once. Twice. 

“’Night,” Clarke said and then finally turned down the hallway with the faint thud of the closing door. 

…

When she left for work the next morning, Lexa was still asleep on the couch. The blanket had fallen halfway off of her, so that only her legs were covered. The fighter’s shirt bunched up towards her armpit. From across the room, Clarke could easily make out the purple and yellow network of bruises that spread across her ribs. Before thinking about it, she tip-toed over to Lexa and picked up the blanket from the floor to cover her back up. Her eyes lingered on the bruise, though. Pink blood vessels showed themselves through the discolored skin, the indentations of the spaces between Lexa’s ribs camouflaged with inflammation and a range of colors usually found in the sunset. She wondered how many times Lexa had ended up with bruises like that, and all the places on her body they’d called home. It hurt Clarke just thinking about it.

After she replaced the blanket over Lexa, she left a note for her with her number on it in case she needed anything, and finally headed out the door.

Her quiet morning quickly turned to chaos as soon as she arrived at the hospital. Beeping monitors, squeaking shoes of nurses rushing down the hallways, and an undercurrent of doctors’ voices speaking with patients and each other almost drowned out Clarke’s thoughts of the fighter still sleeping on her couch. Spending most of the morning checking on her existing patients, Clarke’s work had almost doubled by that afternoon. She got in two sprained ankles, a dislocated shoulder, and three concussions. She was on her way to check on another new patient when she heard quick footsteps behind her.

“Griffin!” Clarke turned to find one of her closest friends in the program, Raven Reyes, half-jogging, half-walking to catch up to her.

“Yo, did you see what’s in Room 102?” Clarke shook her head. She’d barely had time to eat her lunch, much less check on patients that weren’t hers. In fact, she had only sat down once today, and that was to pee. It was almost 4:00 in the afternoon.

“Football player took a low hit. Well, actually he kinda got sandwiched, it was gnarly. I watched the video.” Clarke gave her a disapproving look. “Anyway, he dislocated one knee, tore his ACL in the other, AND fractured his left tibia,” she said a little too excitedly. 

Nothing grossed Raven out. In fact, the worse the injury, the better. Not that she would ever want anyone to be hurt, that is, she just liked the challenge of it. She was probably the smartest person that Clarke knew, but of course she’d never tell her that. Raven’s ego was big enough on its own.

“Jesus. Sounds like a career-ender to me,” Clarke said as she was walking and reading over the charts of one of her own patients. 

“Hey! Do no doubt the Reyes charm. I got put on it to find the quickest recovery plan and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Absent-mindedly, Clarke replied, “Well, if anyone can figure it out, it’d be you.”

Raven stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway. “Okay, who are you, and what did you do with my Clarke Griffin? Because the Griffin I know is not a compliment giver.”  
Clarke ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “Sorry it’s just been a long day. Or I guess it was a long night…probably a little bit of both actually.” 

Before Raven got a chance to question her further, Dr. Walton popped around the corner.

“Ah, Dr. Griffin! I’m glad I caught you. I just got a phone call from Lexa Woods’ management team.”

Clarke’s stomach dropped. “Oh really?” 

“Yes. It was about you actually,” he said. Clarke couldn’t discern what the look on his face meant, she just hoped this wasn’t about last night. She looked at Raven whose eyebrows were raised, obviously anxious to find out what this was about. 

“About me? What did they, uh…did they need something?”

Suddenly, Dr. Walton’s usually-serious face broke into a wide smile. “They want you to be put on as Ms. Woods’ primary doctor! Well under my supervision of course. But you will be doing most of the work, going to her fights, overseeing some practices, coming up with treatment plans.”

Clarke stared, dumbfounded, not sure what to say. Her brain was kind of all over the place. Noticing her lack of words, Dr. Walton continued in his gruff but kind voice.

“Now, I know this is your first high profile patient, but I have faith that you are ready for this.”

Finally, Clarke got herself together after a small nudge in the ribs from Raven. “Wow, Dr. Walton, that’s amazing news. I don’t even know what to say! Thank you so much,” she said finally with a fake smile on her face.

“You’ve earned it,” he said as he turned and walked down the hallway, leaving a 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Raven practically jumped on Clarke. “Damn, Griffin! Lexa Woods! She’s the hottest athlete around right now. She even has a Wheaties box!”  
Clarke of course knew that, she had one in her cabinet at home right now. Before she could reply to Raven, her phone started to buzz in the pocket of her scrubs. She didn’t recognize the number, but decided to answer it anyway, thankful for the relief it provided from the current events.

“Hello, this is Dr. Griffin.”

“Dr. Griffin? I thought you told me to call you Clarke? You’re really sending mixed signals here.” Even though she couldn’t see her, Clarke knew that the fighter had a smirk on her face when she said it.

“Lexa. How are you?” Clarke breathed out a sigh, but smiled to herself. She chanced a glance at Raven who looked at her with wide eyes for the second time that day.

“I’m alright, thanks to you and your magic hands. These stitches aren’t even sore today.”  
Clarke chuckled. “It was really no big deal. I’m just glad I could help.”

“Well, still I’d like to…formally thank you. I was wondering if you had a free evening anytime soon so I could take you out to dinner.”  
Even though Clarke immediately wanted to agree, she stopped herself. She was afraid that a “thank you” dinner might cross the line. And she really couldn’t afford to be crossing any lines right now.

“You don’t have to do that,” Clarke tried to argue.

“But I want to! Plus it’s on me, so if nothing else it’s a free meal right? And aren’t doctors supposed to get to know their new patients anyway?” When Clarke didn’t answer right away, Lexa continued. “Just let me do this, Clarke, please?” 

Clarke could hear the tone of Lexa’s voice change when she said her name. It sounded guilty, almost like she was apologizing for making her do what she did last night.  
A few more seconds of silence and then Clarke convinced herself that she was just overthinking it. It’s just one dinner, right? Yeah, one dinner can’t hurt too badly.

“Okay, sure Lexa that sounds good. I’m off Sunday night if that works for you?”

“That’s perfect,” she said. 

As soon as Clarke slid her phone back into her pocket, Raven seemed to turn back on after being unusually quiet for the past few minutes, and started asking her a million questions at once. 

“Would you just calm down for a second!” Clarke interrupted her. “Yes, that was Lexa Woods. Yes, I am going to dinner with her on Sunday. Strictly professionally.” Clarke looked at her pointedly. Raven was about to say something else, but Clarke held up her hand. “No, I cannot get you tickets to her next fight, and NO, I am absolutely not getting her autograph for you to sell on EBay.”

Raven looked frustrated as she turned to walk down the hallway. “You are absolutely worthless, Griffin. I expect full details Monday morning!”

Clarke made her way into one of her patient’s rooms, thinking about how not sure she was that she’d actually make it to Monday morning. She was fairly certain that Lexa Woods was going to be the death of her.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction, so any comments are appreciated. Let me know if this story is worth continuing. Also, the song that inspired the title is "No Church in the Wild" by Jay-Z and Kanye West. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!


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